Page 33 of Royally Arranged

His smile cracked. “Uh, is everything all right?”

My eyes darted pointedly to his half-curled fingers. “I thought so, but now you’re making me wonder if my legs are broken or something.” His whole face shaded crimson. “I appreciate how badly you want to feel my grip. But didn’t you hear? I’m off the market. No more slutty hand-holding for me.”

He was still blushing as he moved out of my way so I could step into the sun. Shielding my forehead, I squinted at the cloudless expanse of sky. I’d been in this country for a week now, it amazed me that I hadn’t seen a drop of rain.

The young man bowed his head to me. “I’ll help get your things and bring them inside. If you need anything, just shout. My name’s Drake.” He jogged away, his ears still glowing. I almost felt bad for teasing him.

Our motorcade filled up the long driveway. I spotted my parents as they exited their car. My father said something in my mother’s ear. She kissed his cheek, leaving him and coming toward me. “Isn’t this amazing?” she gushed, giving her light green shawl a toss over her shoulders. “And the view of the ocean!”

“It’s fine.”Nova will love it.I shook myself, hands in the pockets of my slate-blue trousers. “Let’s see if it’s as nice on the inside.”

I’d always imagined castles as purely exteriors. Just pointy towers and stones, maybe a moat. I hadn’t spent any time picturing the inside of such a huge structure. My mother and I passed through the giant doors that were partially open. I’d thought the cathedral was magnificent. This, though? This was something else entirely.

Standing where I was, I could see that every exit from the foyer was flanked by shiny statues. They were as bronze as the floors, as old as the walls. Crimson rugs splayed out toward the tall staircases that headed to the second-floor balcony above.

It was all strangely familiar. But I couldn’t place why.

My mother was twirling in a circle, gasping as she gazed around the castle. “It’s so gorgeous!”

“It seems a little extreme. Do we really need all the space?”

“What, do you want to start renovating things already?” she teased. “You’ve barely moved in and you’re already nitpicking.”

“You should want me to feel comfortable.” My hands were still in my pockets. My limbs were taut, stiff—as if I was too nervous to touch anything. I was a foreigner here, no matter what people said ... no matter what preparations had been made.

My father’s friend, Glen, had been the ambassador for us. The bearer of the big news. Every inhabitant of the castle now knew exactly who we were. And who Iwouldbe.

I could feel them watching me as I stood there. The castle guards gave me brief glances, and the maids and butlers pursed their lips in my peripheral vision. They were wondering if I was going to be worse than my uncle. Or maybe they were wondering why someone they’d never met was running their home.

It mirrored my first day at the Dirty Dolls. No one had liked me then, either. They’d just pretended to out of fear. I’d worked hard to gain the trust of all the girls. I’d stayed after hours many nights to get to know the bodyguards and bartenders. It had taken a lot of work before they’d welcomed me. Years, even.

I wasn’t looking forward to repeating that here.

“Come on,” my mother said. “Let’s take a tour.”

Looking over my shoulder, I saw that my father was talking to Glen. They had their heads bent together. The tense lines that had haunted my father since we’d arrived hadn’t vanished; if anything, they’d increased.

Part of me wanted to be included in their discussion. At the same time, I was relieved that they hadn’t tried to involve me. I didn’t know what they were talking about, but I was sure it was something stressful.

“All right,” I said with a smile, “lead on.”

My mother glided through the long hallways, gasping at every single oil painting and elaborate vase and colored window. The castle was much bigger than the home I’d grown up in.

When we walked outside into the gardens and I saw all the white roses, I realized why everything felt so familiar to me. My father had grown up here. He’d used much of his old home as the inspiration for the estate he’d built in Rhode Island. Our gardens back there were very much like these. And the architecture, the color schemes, the rugs I’d taken my first steps on ... all of it had been influenced by my father’s memories.

My feet slowed, then halted, on the grass.All along, he was still attached to this place. He never actually let it go when he ran.

My mother must have realized as well, because she was staring out over the greenery with a wistful smile on her face. She turned, catching me watching her. The vulnerability in her expression went up like smoke. “This is where the engagement photos are going to be done,” she chirped.

She doesn’t want to talk about it.“It’s as good a place as any.” I spoke with a casual shrug, doing my best to go along with her wish to drop the unspoken subject.

My mother gave me a light tap on the shoulder. “I know this is hard, but try to enjoy it for what it is.”

“Do I look like I’m not having a good time?” I asked, making sure my voice was light. “I’d like to think that for someone being forced into early fatherhood, I’m doing a pretty good job on the cheerful front.”

She clicked her tongue at me. “Say whatever you want, but I can tell you like her.”

I laughed harder than I should have. “Yeah?”

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